


Unfinished Business

by yowhyy



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's past, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Past Relationship(s), The Captain is Gay (Ghosts TV 2019), The Captain's past, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yowhyy/pseuds/yowhyy
Summary: Aziraphale has history with Button Hall, and one particular Captain.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/The Captain
Comments: 24
Kudos: 83





	1. A Familiar Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mild, non-graphic mentions of war wounds

__

Aziraphale is _delighted_ when he stumbles across a listing for a collection of old books, early Victorian era, going for very cheap from a young couple in a large house in the middle of the countryside. They’re lovely - Mike and Alison - and they welcome him in with big smiles and a cup of tea. It is Alison who leads him upstairs, escorting him carefully past a large and crumbling hole in the staircase, and into a drawing room where the books are displayed on a table.

‘I’ll go and grab you a box!’

As he surveys the books, alone, Aziraphale jumps as somebody comes in, with a loud ‘hello!’

He looks up - standing in the doorway is a tall man, with a moustache, wearing a khaki, neatly pressed uniform.

Aziraphale’s mouth drops open. He recognises that uniform. How could he forget it?

‘Captain?’

‘Hello, Aziraphale. Doing well?’

****

_1943_

Aziraphale’s heart ached. There was so much death. Hadn’t there been enough before? In the first war?

There wasn’t much he could do – one angel and his miracles could help a little, but it would never be enough, in the grand scheme of how big this bloody war was.

One thing that he did enjoy, a small comfort, was visiting the convalescent homes set up all over the UK. They’d had them in the first world war as well – huge, stately houses converted into a sort of hospital, places where injured soldiers could rest and recuperate. It was relatively easy to slip in, with all the fuss and chaos occurring as each new day brought a new truckload of soldiers, and once inside Aziraphale made himself useful by gently easing some of the soldiers’ pain away with a few minor miracles, soothing burns and broken bones and bullet wounds. He could get away with more miracles than usual during wartime – the unusually high activity levels up in Heaven meant nobody was keeping much of an eye out for what Aziraphale was doing down on Earth.

As well as pain relief, Aziraphale’s other joy was the books. These houses had hundreds and hundreds of them, and although he wanted to devour them all for himself, he held back and instead distributed them amongst the patients. He prided himself on his excellent ability to recommend just the right book for each solider, and in some cases returned back to Soho and his bookshop just so he could find the exact copy he was looking for. For those whose eyes were bandaged or lost he read to them, and often a little crowd would form around him, like children, hanging onto his every word.

‘The Book Angel’ they had started to call him, at this particular home. It was lovely – Button Hall, well off the beaten track, with huge, beautiful grounds, and a _wonderful_ collection of literature.

It was here that Aziraphale first met the Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to expand on a tiny fic I wrote on my tumblr and this was the result!
> 
> The original post is here: https://zafyounis.tumblr.com/post/186051430792/aziraphale-is-delighted-when-he-stumbles-across-a (please feel free to give me a follow!)


	2. The Unfortunate Consequences of Getting Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick explanation as to how exactly the Captain ended up in Button Hall in the first place.

_Present Day_

‘Oooohh.’

Kitty stepped out from behind the curtain, curiosity splashed across her face, watching intently as a man strode up the path towards the front door of Button Hall. At first glance she’d thought he was also a ghost – his clothing was outdated, and he held himself like a _gentleman_ , which you didn’t see anymore.

But Mike opened the door and greeted the man, so obviously he wasn’t a ghost. Just somebody with good taste. Kitty appreciated that – she liked nice clothes.

In her haste to get downstairs and see who this new exciting person was, Kitty almost flew through the Captain and several walls. Catching herself, she beamed at the older, much sterner solider, who was now cocking an eyebrow at Kitty’s unusual, albeit not out-of-character, excitement.

‘There’s somebody coming for a visit!’

The Captain tilted his head, interest sparked. ‘A young man? Do we know him?’ His excitement, although you couldn’t tell from his face, had been piqued – after Mike’s friends had come to stay several months ago the Captain was, although he hastened to admit it, looking forward to when they would come again. They were all ‘fine, strapping, good men’ who would make ‘excellent soldiers’, in his words.

Kitty giggled. ‘No, Captain. A _new_ person! How exciting!’

With a slight roll of his eyes, the Captain adjusted his position and followed Kitty downstairs.

When he saw who it was, he stopped, dead in his tracks.

_1943_

To his eternal shame, the Captain had been shot. Several times.

Worse than the physical pain was the embarrassment that he was being withdrawn from active duty and being sent back to England for medical care. Everybody around him was sympathetic, and very kind about his departure – some of his boys, his troops, came to visit him in the French hospital to say their goodbyes. The Captain’s head hurt slightly at the thought that he was getting replaced by somebody else, a new captain. Nobody would be able to do his job like he had. Nobody.

But needs must, and that is how he found himself at Button Hall. Here he was just another face – no ranks applied here. You were allocated a bed, and several times a day a nurse would visit and administer some more pain medicine. You could have a bath once a week.

 _God_ , it was boring.

Most of the house was off limits, so the few rooms he could explore soon lost their appeal despite their realms of artwork and lavish furniture. His arm meant he couldn’t join in with the games of table tennis like the other, fitter, soldiers, and card games became very tiresome very quickly.

The Captain was grateful, therefore, when somebody began to show him some genuine attention. The curious man wasn’t an army chap, that was for sure, and as to how he kept his clothing so immaculate in this place was another mystery. But he brought _books,_ exactly what the Captain needed to pull his mind away from his discomfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for my limited World War Two knowledge. Most of the descriptions of the convalescence homes will be based off Downton Abbey (which was set in World War One - sorry!)


	3. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting and a discovery.  
> (And our favorite demon!)

_1943_

‘Hello!’ came a chipper voice from somewhere to the left of the Captain. He jerked out of his reverie, startled, not least by the fact someone sounded actually happy – usually the conversation around here was either complaints about pain, complaints about the food, or just general discussion about death.

The voice continued. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you before! Hope you’re not in _too_ much pain this morning, but it is a bit cold in here… do you need a blanket?’

The Captain stared, dumfounded at the man chattering happily, half to himself. He was wearing a brown jacket and a tartan bowtie, one of the only snippets of colour in the sterile landscape surrounding them. ‘I’m Aziraphale – would you like a book? What are you interested in?’

The Captain coughed nervously. ‘Oh, uh. What would you recommend?’ What on earth had come over him? _Pull yourself together man._

Aziraphale paused, lips pursed. He liked it when he got to recommend something. Giving the man a once over he smiled. ‘I’m rather partial to a bit of Oscar Wilde, myself.’

‘That sounds good, thank you.’

‘This is the only one I’ve got on me at the moment, I _do_ hope you haven’t already read it.’

 _The Picture of Dorian Grey._ It sounded vaguely familiar.

‘Thank you’.

Aziraphale beamed, before setting off to the next solider.

***

_Present Day_

Crowley sighed. He half wished they hadn’t stopped Armageddon, just so he could have something to _do._

No, no. Of course, he didn’t.

But he was restless.

He was thinking of taking up smoking.

 _I wonder how I would look with a pipe…._ _Oh God, no. Probably like Aziraphale._

Aziraphale. What was he up to?

Crowley jumped up. He might as well pay a visit to the bookshop, if just to stretch his legs.

The Angel wasn’t there, but Crowley let himself in anyway. The sheer number of books in here never ceased to astonish him, and he had not doubt Aziraphale had read every single one. Crowley had never been such a big reader himself, although he _had_ enjoyed Agatha Christie’s murder mysteries. They had been good friends – Crowley had helped her when she had wanted to go missing, and in turn owned a very valuable original ‘Witness for the Prosecution’ manuscript.

 _Aziraphale would probably like that,_ he mused. Maybe he’d give to him – a congratulations-we-stopped-the-end-of-the-world present.

_I wonder what else is in here._

Crowley’s eyes caught on Aziraphale’s desk – a beautiful old mahogany thing, covered in papers and pens and books. Briefly the demon flicked through some of it, nothing catching his interest, and so he began to peruse the drawers, not expecting anything more exciting than a recipe for gooseberry jam. To his surprise, in the bottom drawer Crowley found three very large, very old and very dusty, big, thick books.

_Photo albums…._

Of course, the angel had photo albums. He was sentimental and adored hanging onto any keepsake from his numerous brushes with humanity. Crowley’s breath hitched slightly, as he opened the first one. There were _hundreds_ of photos. Aziraphale at a dock, waving to a little girl on a boat. Aziraphale under the Eiffel Tower. Aziraphale and numerous Prime Ministers, it looked like. Crowley smiled, in spite of himself – there was something so lovely about the Angel’s adoration for humanity that he chose to keep all of this stuff, even of the people he’d probably forgotten. There weren’t just photos either – tickets, postcards, miniature little drawings (obviously gifted – Aziraphale was not what you’d call an artist). All of his memories from friendships forged in times long passed.

One page in particular jumped out to Crowley – there were a great deal of photos of the same place. It looked like one of the old, stately homes found in every corner of rural England, but not as they usually were. Crowley recognised what was in the photos immediately – he remembered the converting of all of these great houses to the convalescent homes during the wars, not that he’d paid them a great deal of attention– he’d used the opportunity of Hell being wholly consumed by humanity to allow himself a little respite from his usual demonic mischief (not forgetting, of course, when he was pulled back to England by Aziraphale because of those books and that hideously over-dramatic meeting in a church. Crowley smiled at the memory.)

But it wasn’t so much the house which held his attention – it was the man, present in almost every single photo, whether it was a group shot or simply of himself, smiling candidly. He was a solider – even when not in uniform you could tell by his posture, and despite the smile his face betrayed that typical military sternness. Aziraphale was obviously very fond of him – there was more photos of this man on one page than any other individual in the entire album.

Crowley squinted at the page. _Who the hell was he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how short the chapters are - my attention span is so bad!  
> Thank you for reading so far - I appreciate this is quite a niche crossover so I'm struggling for good tags, if you have any ideas please let me know!


	4. An Age Old Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short look at some tricky issues.

Allow me to briefly divulge in an attempt to answer the age-old question – can angels see ghosts?  
Firstly, angels are not themselves ghosts, an important distinction, and neither are demons – but they are not human either, and so are not limited by humanity’s weak attempts to understand the world around them. The answer, therefore, is yes.

Angels and demons alike can see ghosts, although in their human forms interaction is unfortunately limited to that _of_ a human. Even godly entities have to experience the cold feeling of dread one gets when a ghost walks right through them.

But don’t be fooled – this is hardly an issue. Ghosts are not large in number, although most older properties do have a few, and ghostly constraints mean angels are unlikely to bump into one walking down a street.

Of course, this conversation in turn leads to discussions about death and the afterlife and Heaven and Hell and all of those fantastical concepts, all of which are far to complicated to even approach here at all. It will suffice to say that neither Aziraphale or Crowley, in their respective roles, have any contact with souls arriving to the afterlife. That is the job of a completely different department.

Shall we continue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so long coming - I've been very busy! This is a short chapter in an attempt to ease myself back in to the story again, and I will hopefully return to the actual plot soon!


	5. Nice Vibes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain muses, with the enthusiastic help of a friend

_Present Day_

Aziraphale, preoccupied with talking to Mike and Alison, making his usual polite chatter and fuss about the house (he was still _exactly_ the same, the Captain realised with a sigh), hadn’t noticed the Captain straight away, and he retreated through the wall into another room before he had the chance to.

If the Captain still had the ability to respire in this minute he would have felt absolutely breathless. It didn’t make sense. He had died over 75 years ago. How did Aziraphale look the same? Was he also a ghost? But that didn’t work – Mike had seen him. And ghosts couldn’t travel outside the constraints of the place they’d died. Mind racing, the Captain didn’t notice that Kitty had wandered into the room.

 _I’m missing something._ He mused. Evidently out loud, judging by Kitty’s response.

‘Ooh! What are you missing? Is this a game? Are we playing hide and seek? I can help you look!’

‘No, Kitty. I’m just trying to think, if you don’t mind.’

Kitty, not getting the message, sidled closer to the Captain, the grin on her face somehow widening. ‘Are you thinking about that man?’

The Captain didn’t respond.

‘He looked very nice. And do you know what – I’m _sure_ he saw me! Me! Nobody has seen me since _Alison!_ He looked right at me – do you think if I find him, we can be friends?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to think about, Kitty. How do you think he saw you? Nobody can see us, you know that.’

‘Well…’ Kitty paused for a moment; lips pursed. ‘He had a nice... energy. What does Mike call it? Vibes! He had nice vibes.’

‘ _Nice vibes?_ Katherine, I’m trying to be serious here.’

She giggled. ‘I forgot; you wouldn’t have died yet. A long time ago there was another man, he had the same… _vibes._ He came here looking for somebody. Or something. I can’t remember. But he was very handsome.’ She giggled again. ‘His name was Gabriel, like the angel. He visited a few times, back in the 1800s, and he could see us.’

The Captain felt a (metaphorical) rush of blood to his head as he processed what Kitty was saying. Surely Aziraphale wasn’t…

No. Angels didn’t just walk around on Earth buying books. What an un-Christian thought.

But Kitty was right. He did have _nice vibes_ , whatever that meant – better that normal people. He always had seemed a bit different, and the Captain had never managed to quite put his finger on what exactly it was which made him stand out. Clearing his throat, the Captain turned on his heel to face the door. There was only one thing for it – he needed to see Aziraphale. His book angel. To get an answer, yes, but for other reasons too. The Captain would never admit to being sentimental and he resented whatever strange feeling was stirring inside him at the thought of speaking to Aziraphale again after all these years, but he couldn’t avoid it – there was something altogether miraculous about being able to see him, the man who he had spent so many lovely days with, after so many years.

‘Chin up, old chap.’ He muttered to himself. ‘Pull yourself together.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty is my absolute favourite!


	6. A Perfect Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of them together! At last! A look at their relationship at Button Hall all of those years ago.

_Present Day_

‘Hello Aziraphale. Doing well?’

Aziraphale replied with a beaming smile, books forgotten.

‘Oh! Hello, old chap.’

The two of them looked at each other for what felt like a very long time, both of them flooded with identical memories of years long past. Aziraphale made half a movement towards an embrace, but stopped himself, knowing it wouldn’t work. They contented themselves with just looking, for the moment.

_1943_

If you ran a matchmaking service, the two of them would have been an obvious choice. Whereas you may have hesitated in pairing a leather clad, sarcastic demon with a book-loving angel, the Captain and Aziraphale went together perfectly. Following their initial meeting, they were almost inseparable, with Aziraphale making far too many trips with far too many books in order to have an excuse to talk to the Captain, eventually just staying there, by his bed, for hours on end.

They were both punctual to their arranged rendezvous, and their book discussions followed an organised agenda. They were neat, hygienic, and had the same sense of humour, and whilst the others at the home spent their evenings gambling and playing cards, the two of them enjoyed pleasant, meandering strolls in the sunset.

_Present Day_

Those memories were what filled Aziraphale’s mind as he gazed at the Captain – sunsets and walks and standing by the lake. Holding hands, away from the glare of the house and its occupants. Sometimes more.

The Captain suddenly found he did not care at all why Aziraphale was here, the same, alive and well. He was _here,_ miraculously, and that was enough.

They both started talking at the same time.

‘I’d almost forgotten – ‘

‘I’ve missed you, greatly, dear’.

A pause.

‘I missed you too, Aziraphale.’

Before long they were chatting away at full speed – hundreds of memories pouring out of their mouths, laughing and, although the Captain wouldn’t admit it, crying.

‘I have photographs’ said Aziraphale, breathlessly. ‘Do you remember? How many we took?’

The Captain nodded.

‘I can get them, if you like. I can come back? Tomorrow? It’s getting dark and I don’t want to intrude on my lovely hosts any longer – ‘

(Funnily enough, neither of them had been at all disturbed the entire time they’d been up there, after a certain giggling ghost had given a heads up to the rest of the household)

‘That would be nice.’ Half of him didn’t want Aziraphale to go, the other half wanted to see those photos, a concrete reminder that all of this did actually happen.

Aziraphale hesitated by the door as the Captain cleared his throat.

‘You made me a very happy man; you know that Aziraphale? Those few months… I would go as far as saying they were some of the happiest of my life.’

Aziraphale smiled softly. He would be rather inclined to agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far - I don't think I have much left to go! As you might have gathered, there isn't going to be much of a plot to this, its more of a little look at what I thought would be a lovely pairing with a wonderful backstory. Stay tuned for Crowley meeting the Captain, and more fluff! :)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you like! https://zafyounis.tumblr.com/


	7. A Man Who's Seen a Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds out about the mysterious man from the photos, and gets a little bit jealous.

He had _raced_ home to the bookshop, burst through the door breathless, and strode immediately over to his desk.

_One... two…_

He trailed off. Where was the third photo album? Oh dear – he couldn’t have misplaced it, surely, all of them had been in here last time he’d checked.

‘Missing something, angel?’

Aziraphale almost jumped out of his skin. ‘Crowley! I didn’t notice you!’

The demon grinned and slid off the table he was perched on, waving the book in the air. ‘You looked like you wouldn’t have noticed much at all, angel. What’s the rush?’

Aziraphale huffed and grabbed the album. ‘You made me panic for a second. And there’s no rush. I just wanted to look at it, that’s all.’

‘Where have you been?’

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply that it was absolutely no business of Crowley’s where he had spent his day, but in glancing at his face he stopped himself. He didn’t mean any harm. Besides, Aziraphale had never been able to resist his questions.

‘I was buying books from a place in the countryside.’

‘You don’t have any books on you.’

‘Oh, bugger. You’re right. I left them there.’

Crowley raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘What’s gotten into you, angel? You look like a man who’s seen a ghost.’

‘Well, as a matter of fact…’

It was over an hour later when Aziraphale finally finished recounting the story, starting with todays visit to Button Hall which in turn led to the entire tale of his time with the Captain. Crowley wasn’t surprised about the ghost thing, he thought ghosts as a concept were rather amusing and had enjoyed his fair share of encounters with them over the years, mainly during his various meetings in graveyards up and down the country. He was more surprised with the strange pang in his stomach when the angel was talking about the Captain – Aziraphale had always had more of an affinity with humans than Crowley ever had, and he was sure the angel had stories about thousands of people across every century humankind had been around. The photo albums proved that. But the way he spoke about this man was… different.

 _Wonder if he speaks about me like that_ piped up a little voice in Crowley’s head which he dismissed with a scowl. Even he had to admit it was a lovely story, and he always enjoyed Aziraphale’s detailed, colourful tales about his run ins with the world, the smile on the angels face more than making up for whatever strange feeling Crowley was experiencing.

‘And I wanted to get the photo album because I said I would go back tomorrow and show him it.’

‘Can I come?’

Aziraphale felt slightly taken by surprise. ‘Well of course you can dear. I’m not sure how much you’ll like him – ‘

‘Nonsense. He sounds fun. It’s a date, angel, swing by in the morning and I’ll drive us.’

‘If you insist.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Crowley...
> 
> Nearly finished, I think, we just need Crowley and the Captain to meet, which should be fun!


	8. Matchmaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets the Captain, and has a realisation about his angel, prompted by an encounter with a girl in a big pink dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Alison and Mike are married but for the purpose of this let's pretend they are merely engaged.

Crowley knew what the Captain was going to look like, of course, but he wasn’t expecting him to be quite so… _military_. The posture, the way he spoke, the baton tucked underneath his arm. He had struggled to contain a smirk when Aziraphale had introduced him.

‘And this is my friend, Crowley. He wanted to come and meet you!’

‘Hello sir! Lovely to make your acquaintance.’

Of _course,_ Aziraphale had gotten along with him, they were so alike. Manners to a T, pressed clean clothes, probably a preference for the same type of biscuits… On more than a surface level, as well, they were similar – Crowley had made a snarky comment about the lady in the painting hung above the fireplace and had received two identical tuts of annoyance. (She _did_ have a funny looking hat on).

Crowley soon found himself getting bored watching the two of them pour over the photos, and slowly drifted into the corridor, humming softly to himself as he strolled. The whole house was in dire need of building work, a safety assessment and a lick of paint.

‘Hello!’

Crowley spun on his heel at the sound of a new voice. A girl stood behind him, smiling widely. She couldn’t have been older than 30, and she was wearing a very large, very bright, pink dress which nobody on Earth in the past century would have even considered putting within 5 feet of their wardrobe – another ghost, clearly.

‘Hi.’

‘Are you friends with the nice man with the books?’

‘Yes, I am.’

Now, there is something to be said about Kitty – contrary to popular belief, she isn’t an _idiot_. And centuries of being a hopeless romantic does mean one becomes rather good at noticing certain things. And a very familiar expression had just crossed Crowley’s face.

Kitty does, however, lack tact.

‘Oh! Are you married? You need to speak to Alison and Mike because they’re planning theirs at the moment and if I’m being honest, they need a bit of help. The flowers they’ve chosen are…’ she trailed off, making a face.

Crowley almost choked on his own breath. ‘What? No!’

_Oh shit. That was something._

Kitty grinned.

‘Captain! Have you met this man?’ Kitty shouted.

‘Shhhh’ hissed Crowley, flying towards her, too late to stop Aziraphale and the Captain sticking their heads out into the corridor.

‘Yes, Katherine, we met earlier.’

Kitty took one look at Crowley, one to the two people stood in the doorway, and a look back again, before realising what exactly was going on. She raised her eyebrows with a grin – ‘Ahh… I see. I’ll leave you to it!’ She retreated, giggling, and waving her eyebrows at Crowley, through the wall.

‘What was that about, Crowley?’ asked Aziraphale, concern evident in his eyes.

‘Oh, nothing, angel. She just got a bit… excited, I think.’

‘She tends to do that. She likes people’ remarked the Captain, a disproving tone in his voice.

There was a silence, for second.

‘Well, angel. I’m going to be off… do you want a lift?’ If he was being honest with himself Crowley wanted to run far away and be alone in order to confront the realisation that had just smacked him right in the face., the fact that the funny feeling he’d had last night was _jealousy._

Aziraphale looked between his two companions, undecisive. ‘I mean, I could stay a little longer.’

Thankfully, the Captain, too, was not an idiot. He recognised the look in Crowley’s eyes when he looked at Aziraphale – it was the same one he had had, all those years ago. He gave a little smile, hardly noticeable under his moustache.

‘No, you go. I’ve had a lovely time. Spend some time with your friend.’

‘Are you sure? I mean I’m sure I could work something out. Make it so you could come with us, if you wanted? I know technically it’s not allowed but I’m sure I could get around it. They wouldn’t mind -’

The Captain quietly hushed the angel, who was talking at 500 miles per hour with no sign of stopping.

‘I’ve got my troops here who need me, Aziraphale. You go home. Just promise me you’ll visit.’

Aziraphale paused for a moment, glancing at Crowley before smiling.

‘Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And for all the lovely comments! I hope you've enjoyed :)
> 
> Like I said this wasn't so much intended to be a proper plot-driven story, more a little look at what I think would be a very lovely pairing, and as it turns out I've ended up writing about Azi and Crowley's relationship as well, which I had lots of fun with! Thank you for taking time to read what is a little bit of a silly idea for a fic, I've had fun exploring the personalities and pasts of a few of my favourite characters and I hope I've done them justice :)


End file.
